


Our Worst Enemy

by salishseaselkie



Series: Thistle Thine, Rose Mine [3]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salishseaselkie/pseuds/salishseaselkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders disappears under Rhona's command; year later, he appears in Kirkwall very much a changed man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Worst Enemy

Rhona looked over the report that had been handed to her on her patrol. Anders had gone missing weeks ago and had not reported back.

Now she knew why.

She growled up at the lieutenant from her desk, who flinched at her fist landing on the desk. “How did this happen?!” Rolan had been an eager candidate for the Joining, but no one could have known he was a templar. The Revered Mother of Denerim was breathing down her neck, asking for an explanation as to why her templars were dead, and she had none. She had not known that Anders remained a priority; how could she? The Right of Conscription was hers to insist on any, and none could defy her. There was no reason that the templars should be chasing him down. And now they were dead, and she did not know why.

Except that Anders had something to do with it.

The lieutenant rubbed her arm nervously. “Commander, the site was clean, except for the templars. We don’t know where he is or what happened.” Nathaniel came in the room, and Rhona snapped at the lieutenant.

“Find him. Now.” Rhona did not like the idea of having the Revered Mother at her heels. She needed answers, before the Wardens found themselves subject to exile again. Nathaniel let the woman slip past and closed the door. His brow was rigid, creased with concern and exhaustion. He’d been leading the search parties for Anders; they had found nothing in the days since.

Rhona looked up at him with a dark face. “We should have let him keep his cat.” Nathaniel smirked dryly.

His voice was hoarse with wear; he’d been riding for days, scouting the coast. “Honestly, Commander, I don’t know if that would have helped.” She rubbed her hands over her face wearily and then tossed the report aside.

She redirected her attention to the parchment in her hands. “Any news?” He lay the paper down.

As she looked it over, he explained, “Manifesto from a barge headed to Kirkwall. There is no mention of him by name, but many of the workers saw a man of his description paying off the ship captain. There is mention of a healer in the manifesto.” She groaned, and he folded his arms as she looked out the window.

She sighed, resigned. “He’s out of our hands now.” From that day on, Anders was nothing more than a memory.

Rhona is visiting Kirkwall with Alistair, after the murder of the Viscount, because he wants to see Meredith for himself. He wants to know if she will cause a problem - everyone knows that Alistair has been exceptionally benevolent with the mages. Wynne was court mage for a few years after his coronation, and while he has never actually harbored apostates, when the templars come looking for assistance from the city guard, Alistair turns them aside with little more than a “hello” and “good-bye”. His duty is to the people, he will say, and last he checked, mages are people too.

As for Rhona, she has refused any looking for a Joining that have any firm ties to the Chantry. She will not have a repeat of Anders. She will not alienate her people, not at the cost of a few lyrium-addled warmongers.

They arrive at the Viscount’s Palace with a full guard at their flank, riding in ceremony, but the city is not welcoming, nor should it be, if she has heard anything of how they treat “dog-lords” in Kirkwall.

Alistair has sent a letter to the Champion of Kirkwall, Elena Hawke, who is one of those upstart dog-lords - of Lothering, in fact. He desires a meeting with her, to see what can be done about circumventing Meredith’s iron grip on Kirkwall.

Hawke does not arrive in time, and Meredith spits as she sees Rhona. “The Wardens are not welcome here, Commander. Apostates run rampant in your ranks, and I will not tolerate maleficar.” Rhona growls, a retort on her tongue, but Teagan places his hands on her shoulders.

“To spare any undue injury, my dear niece, perhaps you should adjourn to the study. Until the Knight-Commander is finished with her business with us.” Meredith snorts, and Rhona can feel her grip on her sword tighten. But this is not the Landsmeet, and challenging a templar will win her nothing except the Chantry’s ire.

Much later, when she hears the clank of templar armor removing itself from the hall, Rhona stands and returns to the throne room. She slips in through the doors, only to see four people standing before Alistair as he explains himself. She sits in a chair off to the side, reveling in how talented he has become at diplomacy. he doesn’t even need her anymore to walk him through it, and while she should be bitter that he can walk on his own, she only feels the swell of pride beneath her breast.

Then her eyes wander to his audience. The foremost of them has inky black hair and has a sword strapped to her back, a helm tucked beneath her arm, and her hip is tilted - she’s likely been standing there for a while. Her companions are a dwarf with an intricate crossbow on his back, a redhead clad in heavy armor…

And then Rhona has to squint at the blond man with a staff slung over his shoulder. It can’t be…

And then she hears him address Alistair, and she knows it is Anders. He is here. Right here, in front of her, alive.

The one she assumes to be Hawke bows to Alistair after he waggles his eyebrows at her from across the room - she distinctly hears the words “ball and chain” fall from his teasing lips, and while she would love to take them with her own, she is a little preoccupied with the fact that Anders is standing right there, alive, and now she can finally have answers.

Alistair walks toward her, but she waves him off, and he obeys, knowing that she has Warden business, and he shouldn’t get mixed up. The four walk towards the door when she approaches Anders. He sees her and his bright eyes go wide.

“C-Commander…” Hawke looks back as Rhona cuts him off from the others.

She raises a hand, meaning to reach for her sword should Rhona go to attack, but Anders puts his hand up, his eyes still betraying his confusion, focusing as he tells her to leave.

He murmurs in warm tones she had not expected of the Anders she had once known. “Go. Go, love. I’ll be home shortly.” She narrows her eyes as she looks suspiciously at Rhona. Rhona only glares back.

Hawke lets her hand down and eyes Anders. “All right. Hurry home, please.” She bows to Rhona and takes her leave.

He turns to his former Commander. “I see you’ve found me. Come to drag me back? I’d sooner slit my throat, but you have Right of Conscription, don’t you?” His voice is a sneer, bitter and angry. The hair on the back of her neck raises, and the old tempers flare.

She grabs him by the scruff. “How dare you? Do you know the lengths I went to find you? Do you know the pains I took to keep the Revered Mother from calling down an Exalted March on our heads? It is fortunate that I am married to the crown, for our return from our exile is still young, and you put us at risk!” His face remains solemn, unshaken by her threats.

He spits back at her, “Then kill me, why don’t you?” Her lips is curled in a snarl; how she would love to bring him to regret. But it won’t do any good.

She releases his collar and scowls at him. “What’s happened to you, Anders? You used to have such a wonderful sense of self-preservation.” He folded his arms with an almost petulant scorn.

“It won’t change anything for you to know.” She puts her hands on her hips. If he wants to act the child, she is more than willing to accommodate that.

She vows not to let him leave until she understands. “You owe me, Warden. Now talk.” He glares at her.

But his eyes soften and he caves easily. “They took my cat. I was lonely and without purpose - we cleared out the ‘spawn, and I never liked the Deep Roads to begin with. I…I went back to the Blackmarsh, where we killed the dragon spirit, to clear my head.” He paused, sucking in his cheek.

“Justice found me.” Rhona draws a sharp breath. Justice had been defeated when she accepted the Architect’s aid against the Mother. He was supposed to be gone. He shouldn’t have been a problem.

“How?” He shrugs.

“I don’t think even he knows. but…” Anders hesitates and looks at his hands. “He asked me to take him in. To be his host. He was our ally, and he’d done so much for us…” Rhona cannot believe what she is hearing.

She shakes her head, trying to imagine any other meaning to what he is saying, hoping that he isn’t talking about what she knows he is talking about. She whispers harshly, “You didn’t…please tell me you didn’t…” But Anders shakes his head.

His voice grows bitter and angry, and turns his gaze to the carpet, folding his hands into his pockets. “Rolan followed me that day, and he tried to kill me. Bloody templars think they are so mighty.” He smiles a sinister smile that sends shivers down her spine. “He wasn’t so mighty that day, was he?.” He then looks up coldly at Rhona. “You shouldn’t have let them take my cat, Commander.” He sidesteps around her and takes his leave. Rhona can only stand there, bewildered.

Alistair comes through a side door and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “Rho? You look pale, dearest.” She folds into his arms and he kisses her forehead, asking if she is all right. But she doesn’t say a word.

She failed her friend, and now he is an abomination. And she doesn’t know what he will do, but Justice will not allow him to stand idly by in a city bent to the will of a mage-hating tyrant.

For the first time in a long time, Rhona is afraid.


End file.
